


Pick Me Up

by ceilingfan5



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bad Pick Up Lines, Getting Together, Haikyuu Spring Fling, M/M, Tutoring, akaashi is stubborn and bad at talking to people, bokuto is good at math, hq spring fling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6471688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceilingfan5/pseuds/ceilingfan5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bokuto tries his cheesy pick-up lines on Akaashi, Akaashi blows him off. That doesn't stop Bokuto, though! He's just going to keep trying until something works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> My fic for Ri (lord-of-the-dragons) for the HQ Spring Fling! Coming up with dorky pick-up lines was a lot of fun. 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated! They really help me get in the writing mood and even if I don't respond, they always make my day.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Cause you have got to be an angel.”

The pick-up line catches Akaashi off-guard and, out of sheer embarrassment and self-defense, he responds like an ass.

“No, it hurt worse when I lost God’s favor and was sentenced to a life among mortals, but blinding them with the heavenly light of my thousand burning eyes is some small gratification.”

Bokuto gapes at him like a fish out of water and Akaashi excuses himself as fast as possible to hide in the bathroom and lament his inability to communicate like a human being. But he still finds himself doodling the words in his math notebook.

To his surprise (and probably everyone else’s) Bokuto doesn’t give it up. And rather than just an embarrassment, it starts to become a game. 

“If you were a flower, I’d pick you!”

“You’d break my spine and kill me?”

“Uh, mostly I meant ‘cause you’re pretty and you smell good?”

Akaashi doodles flowers for days. 

“Are you from Tennessee? Cause you’re the only ten I see.”

“Do you even know where Tennessee is?” 

Akaashi loses all track of polynomials. 

When Bokuto gives him a leaf (“I’ve fallen for you”) Akaashi’s “leaf me alone” doesn’t stop him. He tapes the leaf in his notebook. A chocolate wrapper (“can I give you a kiss?”) and a Toyota ad (“It’s a pick-up line, Akaashi! It’s a line of pick-ups!”) join it, along with a nice rock, a broken necklace chain, and fourteen heart-shaped stickers wearing sunglasses. 

Akaashi has a C in math, but he’s completely fallen in L-O-V-E. 

When his teacher suggests to the coach that he get a tutor, his heart almost stops. And when Bokuto volunteers for the job, it nearly explodes. The idea that he needs help in any school subject is embarrassing enough, and the thought that it would be Bokuto helping him, helping him with that notebook of his, full of secrets and disasters and candy-colored hearts, well. That is almost unbearable. 

He shows up at the scheduled time in the empty classroom anyway. Even distracted as he is, he’s still a good student. 

“Hey, hey, Akaashi!” Bokuto shouts when he shows up, as if this is a completely normal day instead of the best-worst day of Akaashi’s young life. His fingers itch on the red notebook, and he briefly considers accidentally dropping it in the trash or kicking it under a shelf. But he doesn’t want to lose his keepsakes. Unless this is the longest practical joke ever, Bokuto is the first person to legitimately show interest in him, and that’s a chance too big to abandon among pencil shavings.

Bokuto sits and pats the desk next to him like nothing could possibly be wrong in the world, and with a smile like that, Akaashi really, really wants to believe him. He sits, careful, quiet, and pretends he’s got nothing to hide. 

“I didn’t expect you to be bad at math, Akaashi!” Bokuto grins and folds his arms like it’s all a joke and not something shameful in the least. 

“I didn’t expect you to be good at it, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi retorts, realizing too late just how rude that sounds. He knows Bokuto isn’t an idiot, but it’s hard for him to translate his foolish antics at practice to pencil and paper. 

To his credit, Bokuto just laughs and takes it in stride.

“No one does! I suck at English and all that, though, so maybe that’s why. Just math and volleyball for me, thanks!” 

Maybe he can get Bokuto to do all the talking, Akaashi thinks. Maybe he can shut his stupid mouth and not let anything else rude slip out. 

“Where are your notes?”

Shit.

The notebook slips into his lap, a sleight of hand worth its weight in magic. Not that the damn thing would be any use for studying, anyway. There hadn’t been any equations in it beyond A+B=<3 for a few months, now. 

“Forgot it,” Akaashi lies through his teeth, and Bokuto just laughs again, musical and childlike. Who was the real angel here? Certainly not Akaashi. 

“That’s no good, Akaashi! How are you gonna study? No wonder you’re having trouble in class! Would you come to practice without your shoes?” 

“Usually I keep my shoes in my locker,” Akaashi bites back, unthinkingly. The way Bokuto says his name rings in his ears and forces out all sense and politeness. “So there’s no need.”

“Okay, okay, so it’s not the same thing! But you wouldn’t come unprepared, would you?” He slams his hands down on the table like this is some kind of drama show and not a useless, boring study session like all of the others going on right now. But Bokuto could turn anything dramatic with the flick of a wrist. Akaashi hated himself for adoring it. His middle school had never been so interesting. 

“No, I suppose not.”

“There, you see?” His triumphant face gives him dimples, and Akaashi can’t imagine how he’s going to focus on math with this sitting in front of him. He can barely focus on schoolwork when he’s only a fading memory on the back of a heart-shaped gum wrapper or the ribbon from a box of new shoes, and now he’s right there, not two feet away, grinning like he’s won something and Akaashi can’t help but wish he was the prize. 

He’s such a fool. A sucker. But it’s so easy to get caught in that enthusiasm.

“I can just use my Modern Japanese notebook, Bokuto-san,” is all he can say, avoiding eye contact. Skin contact. Thoughts of either. He reaches into his backpack and makes the switch like a hero in an American crime movie.

Bokuto would probably love that kind of movie.

The tutoring is a mess. Akaashi comes away from it knowing even less about math than before, but he’s memorized the pattern in Bokuto’s eyes and the sprinkle of freckles on his shoulders and the text on his shirt that says I FLEXED AND THE SLEEVES FELL OFF and every inch of muscle on his arms that betrays a dozen or more uniform regulations. He also considers the fact that Bokuto either must have been wearing it under his uniform all day or, perhaps the worse option, had brought it to school specially for changing into between the study session and practice, when he would have to change again. 

It’s ridiculous, but it fills his stomach with butterflies. Maybe something stronger than butterflies, like moths, or snakes. 

Owls. Probably definitely owls, if only to appease Bokuto himself. He’d have nothing less. 

Practice sets a new record for terrible. Usually he could prevent himself from getting noticeably distracted, but now he can’t tear his eyes away from Bokuto, specifically that little strip of freckles by his shoulder that looked like the big dipper. Not only does he almost take a ball straight to the face, he disrupts practice by convincing Bokuto that he was mad at him because he wouldn’t stop “glaring”. 

And the whole team agrees that it’s his turn to take care of it. 

“It’s your fault he’s upset, anyway,” a second-year says. Traitor.

“Yeah, and you’re the best at getting him to chill anyways.” 

“Can’t we just-” Akaashi tries, but half a dozen players push him back towards the changing rooms with no room to refuse. 

“No way,” someone else says. Akaashi glares at the floor instead of looking at him to remember which of his uperclassmen it is. “You two have unfinished business.” 

“He just had something on his face,” Akaashi tries again, but the laughter that surrounds him makes it clear that everyone knows it’s not true. Some luck. 

“Just deal with it so we can get back to practicing normally.”

“Yeah, I’m tired of going after haywire balls.”

Traitors, the lot of them. 

He tries to raise his doubts instead. 

“You don’t think he actually...you know...” He tries not to look nervous, but his hands find the hem of his shirt and worry it into a mess. He’s been teased before, and as good-natured as Bokuto surely is, the motivation to make himself vulnerable does not come easy.

“Buddy,” a third year laughs, slapping him on the back. “That guy doesn’t have a dishonest bone in his body. If he was fucking with you, you’d know. Now grow some balls and don’t come back to practice until you’ve got our ace.” 

The manager snaps at him to mind his language, but Akaashi is already gone before the lecture starts. 

The changing room is dark, the same way it always is when Bokuto goes to sulk in it, but Akaashi is experienced enough with the place now that it isn’t hard to find his way around. Bokuto, even in his darkest moments, is never quiet. Almost proving the point, he yelps when Akaashi sits down beside him with no warning, and Akaashi takes just a little bit of satisfaction from his surprise. 

“Hey.” That’s a way to start a conversation if he ever heard one. Boring, maybe, but to the point. Hey. It’s good. Classic. Simple. 

“Hey...” Bokuto sighs back, and every last bit of Akaashi’s script goes straight out of his head. What was he going to go with next? What the hell had he been going to say? ‘Sorry, Bokuto-san, I don’t hate you, I’m just really fucking awkward and I don’t know how to talk to people and I mean I always knew you were attractive but I saw you so close today that I can’t stop thinking about your muscles and your freckles and maybe you thought I was glaring at you but honestly I was just imagining licking them and-’

Bokuto coughs, and Akaashi is very, very thankful for the safety of the darkness. 

“So, uh...” Bokuto tries, and the thought that he doesn’t really know what to say either crosses Akaashi’s mind, and makes him feel just that tiny bit better. “So...”

“So...” Akaashi says, in that dead-pan tease he uses to respond to those cheesy pick up lines. Those adorable, romantic, well-intentioned cheesy pick-up lines. God, he’s been an asshole this whole time. 

“So. So.” Bokuto twiddles his thumbs. “So...” He takes a deep breath. “Akaashi, I- I’m sorry!”

What?

“I don’t know what I did to make you hate me- Was it the toss I messed up? Was it the tutoring? You didn’t want me to tutor you, was that it? Was I too loud? Did I embarrass you?”

Akaashi doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

“Shit, was it the pick-up lines? And the stuff I put in your locker? God, I should have stopped when you shot me down the first time! I’m such an asshole! No, I’m worse than an asshole! I’m like a stalker!” 

“Bokuto-san.” 

“You must think I’m a huge creep! I probably am a huge creep! I don’t-”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, a little more forcefully this time, and this time, Bokuto listens. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. And...” His hands fidget at the seam of his shirt, unraveling the stitching. “And I don’t hate you at all.”

“But you were glaring at me at practice and you wouldn’t listen when I tutored you and I thought it would be so fun!! And come to think of it you always get kind of annoyed with me, I mean, more annoyed than everyone gets? Is it the pick up lines? I’m sorry! I should have stopped when I realized you weren’t interested! Ugh, it was so stupid of me to-”

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi’s voice is a little sharper this time. “I love them, alright?”

Against all odds, Bokuto is silent. Akaashi wishes he could see the look on his face, but continues to be thankful his own is invisible. 

“I do. I love them.”

“But you always-”

Akaashi shakes his head.

“I love them. I’ve written every one down and kept all of those gifts you’ve given me. I, uh.” His hem is a disaster. It’s probably lucky that he has to tuck his uniform shirt in, or he’d be in a lot of trouble. “I taped them into my math notebook.”

“Oh,” Bokuto says, and nothing more. Akaashi squirms. 

“And, uh. I wrote down the things you said.” All of them, but he doesn’t need to know that. He especially doesn’t need to know about “mister Bokuto Keiji” or even worse, “mister Akaashi Koutarou”. Even the thought of it makes Akaashi want to crawl into the nearest locker and meet his maker the hard way. 

“Oh,” Bokuto repeats, his train of thought gaining speed. “Is that why you didn’t have it? Cause you didn’t want me to see it? Cause it had all that stuff in it? Akaashi, did you really keep all of that stuff? You’re kidding, right?”

“You, uh. You can look. If you don’t believe me.”

Bad idea. Very bad idea. But even in the darkness, Akaashi can see Bokuto’s eyes light up. 

“Akaashi, this is amazing!” 

“You haven’t even seen it yet, Bokuto-san.” The thought of him flipping through those forbidden pages makes Akaashi pray for heart transplants and alien invasions. 

“No, but just the fact that you liked them--you liked them enough to keep them-” He laughs, giddy. “Even though they were silly...even though you acted like I was being annoying!”

“You’re not annoying, Bokuto-san.” Okay, maybe that one’s a bit of a stretch, but it definitely has feeling behind it. “I’m just...not very good at this sort of thing.”

“At what sort of thing?”

“The, uh.” How can he possibly phrase this without sounding like an idiot? “The accepting-feelings-kind-of-thing.” No way at all, apparently.

It takes a second for the bombshell to hit. 

“Wait, Akaashi...” Three, two, one… “Does this mean you accept my affections??” 

The simple excitement in his voice fills Akaashi with owls again, except maybe less angry and more like the birds that fly around after Cupid in cartoons. 

“Yeah…I guess it does.”

He should have been prepared for Bokuto’s ‘WOOHOO’ but there was no possible way for him to be prepared to be swept up into the biggest, most dramatic, passionate, sweaty kiss he’d ever had. 

“Bokuto-san-” he gasps, the air taking far too long to drunkenly find its way back to his lungs where it belongs. He can’t say he’s complaining too much. “What- what do we do now?”

“Uh,” Bokuto says, as if he hadn’t thought that far ahead. Akaashi didn’t blame him. “How about.. Hey, how about a date?”

“A date?” Akaashi hopes Bokuto didn’t notice the way his voice just cracked. 

“Yeah, yeah! A date! A real date!”

Akaashi thinks for a moment. 

“A date with no math?” 

He can practically see Bokuto grinning in the darkness, like glow-in-the-dark stars in the comfort of a childhood bedroom. 

“You got it, Akaashi!” And then his grin grows cheeky and Akaashi just knows what’s coming next. “Not to be obtuse or anything, but you’re acute-y.”

Akaashi doesn’t even know how to respond to that. Geometry seems more distant than the dinosaurs. He just settles for a classic.

“Oh my god.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr for more haikyuu fun (ceilingfan5) or my writing blog, fan5fics! I'm close to another follower giveaway and it would be really cool to hit 250 by my birthday (even though I'm still behind on the last one...............)


End file.
